


Commander. Gabriel. Gabe.

by misscai



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 23:33:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11839317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misscai/pseuds/misscai
Summary: Ingrid is a person who likes to be liked. When she thinks that Gabriel Reyes doesn't like her, she takes steps to make him like her. She doesn't know why Jesse finds this all so funny.





	Commander. Gabriel. Gabe.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I have no excuse

For her first few weeks in Overwatch, Ingrid simply observed. She memorized the layout of every building and knew where all the agents' suites were. She knew the duty roster and training schedules that were subject to change based on missions, and she learned the processes that took place pre- and post-operation. She learned the ins and outs of cybernetic care, and continued her medical training under Angela. But above all else, she studied the people.

She spent time with Winston in his lab, speaking with him about the maintenance of Lena's chronal accelerator and his not-so-healthy addiction to peanut butter. She sat with Jesse while he cleaned his Peacemaker, listening to his stories about the Deadlock gang and watching his metal arm for any irregularities. She sparred with Genji, both to learn hand-to-hand combat skills and to assess the state of his cybernetic enhancements. She spent evenings with Lena, indulging in more playful chatter about agents on base and Lena's girlfriend Emily. Ana, Torbjorn, and Reinhardt told her stories from their past, recounting the formation of Overwatch and the bitter years of the Omnic Crisis. Fareeha eagerly showed Ingrid the mechanics of her new rocket launcher and flight suit. Even Jack allowed her to ask questions about his past in the SEP. Ingrid had become comfortable with her new patients, and thus had found her place in the Overwatch team... with one exception.

Gabriel Reyes.

He was never in the same room as Ingrid for longer than five minutes, and he never let his guard down enough for her to get a glimpse into the man behind the uniform. It was both annoying and upsetting, in equal parts: annoying, because she couldn't provide the best care for him without knowing what he needed from her, and upsetting because she had the distinct feeling that he didn't like her, and she liked to be liked.

These thoughts were plaguing her as she sat on the edge of Jesse's bunk, mending the wires at his wrist after he'd torn them arm-wrestling Reinhardt. She must have been frowning, because Jesse poked the wrinkle in her forehead.

“That's a serious scowl you've got going on,” he commented. “I didn't think you'd be this mad at me. It's not like I got syrup in the joints.”

“You _have_ done that, though. Twice.” Ingrid sighed, setting aside the electrical tape and replacing the metal panel. “Wiggle your fingers.” Jesse did as she instructed, finishing off by flipping the bird at her with a shit-eating grin.

“Most important finger works just fine.”

“Wow, that's almost as funny as the other fifty-eight times you've done it.” She got to her feet, packing up her supplies and heading for the door.

“Whoa, there.” Jesse caught her by the shoulders before she could leave, leading her right back to the bed and plopping her down on the duvet. “Who's pissed in your grits today?”

“Nobody,” she shrugged, but Jesse just raised his eyebrow at her. Ingrid huffed. “It's Commander Reyes. He hates me.” Jesse stared at her for a minute, then burst out laughing. He was still hunched over, clutching at his stomach and guffawing obnoxiously, when Genji walked through the door.

“What is funny?”

“Ing thinks... thinks Reyes h-hates her!” Repeating the information seemed to send Jesse further over the edge; he collapsed backwards onto the floor, his hat tumbling off his head. Genji rolled his eyes.

“It is an easy mistake to make,” he said with a shrug, patting Ingrid's head as if he were the thirty-year-old instead of her. “Reyes is not the most friendly person.”

“Well, he likes both of you and he doesn't treat me like he treats you, so logic would say that he doesn't like me,” Ingrid pointed out, confident in her argument.

“You have only been a part of Overwatch for a month, Ingrid. He does not know you yet.”

“He won't give me a chance to get to know him!” She crossed her arms over her chest, idly picking at a thread on the cuff of her sweatshirt. It was a little petulant to be pouting as a fully-grown woman, but Ingrid was beyond caring. Besides, Jesse was still laying on the floor snickering, and he was only five years younger. “I don't know what to do. How did you make him like you, Genji?”

“I do not remember doing anything special. I just did my assignments. In fact, I believe I ignored him for my first few weeks here.” He blinked at her, tilting his head slightly to the side. “Though I do not think that will work for you.”

“You just need to make him spend time with you,” Jesse put in, leaning up on his elbows to look at the two of them. “Find some kinda way to corner him.”

“Do not corner him,” Genji amended, “just make it more enticing to stay with you rather than leave.” Ingrid considered this, her mind already racing at the thought of a new challenge.

“Alright. I can do that.” She stood, stepping over Jesse and squeezing Genji's forearm as she passed. “Thanks, boys.” And with that, she made her exit. Genji waited for her footsteps to fade down the hall, then he regarded Jesse's grin.

“You did not tell her he is interested in her?”

“Hell no,” Jesse replied. “It'll be much more fun this way.”

.

Ingrid stood barefoot in the kitchen, stirring a pot of thick tomato soup while she waited on her cheese toast to finish browning. September was coming to a close and the temperatures were dropping rapidly. Gabriel was from Los Angeles, so Ingrid was willing to bet that he wasn't a fan of the cold—hence, the soup and toast. He was out in the training facility now, but he'd been there over two hours and Ingrid figured he'd be finishing up and heading to the dining hall for another bottle of water. She dipped her pinkie finger in the soup, testing the temperature and the taste. If this didn't melt Gabriel Reyes, she didn't know what would.

The exterior door slid open, letting in a blast of chilly air along with the man she was waiting for. He didn't notice her at first, busy removing his headphones and coiling the cord in a neat circle. Ingrid casually tapped her wooden spoon on the side of the pot, smiling at Gabriel when he paused to look at her. She motioned to the stove.

“I made dinner.” He just nodded and kept walking. Ingrid cleared her throat. “I was hoping you'd eat with me. Commander.”

“I don't eat meals after a workout.”

“It's... not really a meal. It's just soup.” Still, he hesitated. “Would it help if I said 'doctor's orders?'”

“No.” But he sat down at one of the cafeteria tables anyway. Ingrid inwardly cheered, doling out two portions of soup and bringing them over, along with the plate of cheese toast. Gabriel started eating without a word. His gaze stayed stubbornly on his bowl.

“Jesse told me that you were shot on the last mission,” she said. “I didn't know.”

“Just a graze. I can bandage that myself.”

“I should still probably take a look. It could get infected.”

“It's fine. It already scabbed over.” Ingrid fell silent again, growing more and more disheartened.

“Do you know when your next deployment is?”

“No.”

“Well, I'd like to do a physical examination before you go out again. Make sure you're fit for combat and everything.”

“There's no need,” he told her. Ingrid deflated.

“Alright.” They finished their meal, and the only other words spoken were a gruff 'thanks' from Gabriel as he emptied his bowl and left the room.

.

Failure wasn't an option, however, so after Ingrid nursed her wounded pride and contemplated her next plan, she tried again. This time she'd find him on his own turf: the training complex. She donned her sweatpants and an Overwatch-issued tank top and headed straight for the sparring room. Gabriel was there already, his knuckles bound in exercise tape and pounding the punching bag in the corner. Ingrid dropped her gym bag with an audible thud, and Gabriel glanced over at her.

“You're a hand-to-hand combat specialist, aren't you, Commander?” Gabriel gave a curt nod. His gaze was intense and devoid of emotion, except for perhaps annoyance at being interrupted. “I usually train with Genji, but he's on a mission with Jack and Jesse.” Gabriel kept staring at her. Ingrid forced a smile. “I thought you could train me today, Commander. It would be a good way for us to get to know one another.”

“You're not ready for hand-to-hand with me,” he said, giving her a once-over that made her feel three feet tall.

“We can do something else, then. How about a run?” For a moment it looked like Gabriel was going to refuse. But instead he shook his head and started unwrapping his knuckles.

“The circuit around the gym is a quarter-mile. Can you handle that?”

“Easily,” Ingrid said, falling into step beside him as Gabriel led the way to the main room. The track was suspended around the second floor, and it was empty save for the two of them. Gabriel took off running as soon as they cleared the stairs; Ingrid had to sprint to catch up with him. “You're really on top of your fitness, huh?”

“I'm a soldier. It's part of the job.”

“Just remember to take a break once in a while,” she advised. “I'll be upset with you if you hurt yourself.” They kept running quietly, finishing the circuit three more times to make a mile. Gabriel glanced down at Ingrid, who was keeping pace with him.

“You a runner?” She had to suppress her smile at getting him to start a conversation.

“I enjoy it, yeah. Started up in college. How about you?”

“Part of SEP training.”

“Is that where you met Jack?”

“Mhm.”

“What was it like?”

“Unpleasant.” She'd pried a few details out of Jack: the experimental injections, the relentless training, the sickness that came along with it all, the deaths of other participants. It was hard to imagine Gabriel and Jack in that state. They both looked so incredibly healthy now. If she had anything to say about it, they would stay that way.

By the end of the third mile, Ingrid was winded, her calf muscles burning in an unpleasant way. But Gabriel showed no signs of slowing, and they were finally communicating. Her medical training was telling her to stop, but her pride told her not to—so she pushed past the pain to start in on the fourth mile. It was worth it for the mildly impressed look Gabriel gave her.

“So,” she huffed, “how long do you run, usually?”

“Do you need to stop?” There was amusement in his voice, underwritten by a note of concern that Ingrid hadn't expected.

“No, I'm good.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, it's fine.” And it was, for another few minutes. They finished the half-mile marker side-by-side, but not twenty seconds later, Ingrid's leg simply gave out on her. She went down hard on her knee, her ankle turning a little too far for her comfort. Gabriel overshot her by several steps, then turned around and knelt before her.

“Is it twisted?” He reached out for her ankle, removing her shoe and sock in one swift motion. Ingrid shook her head, but his thumbs probed around the joint anyway. “You pushed yourself too hard.”

“Just wanted to impress you, Commander.” _Shit._ It came out much more flirtatiously than she intended, and Ingrid was prepared to apologize, but the tiniest smile curved the corners of Gabriel's lips.

“There's no need to hurt yourself,” he said, putting on her shoe again once he was satisfied that her ankle wasn't injured. Then he got to his feet and extended a hand to help her up, clasping one hand on her upper arm once she was standing. “You already have my attention.” And with another barely-visible smile, Gabriel was off running once again, leaving Ingrid to stare after him with a blush on her cheeks.

.

Things got easier between them after that. Gabriel still wasn't the most talkative person, but he started eating his meals with her if she was in the dining hall at the same time, and they often went running together. She noticed that he kept a closer eye on her around the four-mile marker, slowing his pace without saying a word if she seemed to be tiring. Slowly, she was learning about him.

It started off simply, small facts that would be trivial to anyone else but were critical to Ingrid. He spoke Spanish. He sometimes wore glasses while reading. His hidden talent was sewing and all of his clothes were monochromatic with the exception of his formal Overwatch commander's uniform. She didn't need to be told that he cared for Jesse as if he were family, or that he was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Those were things she could see for herself.

Despite the time they spent together, Gabriel never sought her out for himself. So, when knuckles rapped against the door of her suite in the barracks, Ingrid never imagined it would be him. She answered it with half a granola bar in her mouth, her hair messy and her fuzzy socks mismatched and full of holes. Gabriel smirked at her appearance.

“Did I catch you in your off-hours, doc?”

“I'm not a doctor,” was the wisest thing that Ingrid could manage to say. He chuckled at that, even as she rushed to swallow the rest of her snack and straighten her appearance as best she could. “You're still in your combat clothes. Are you hurt? Were you shot?”

“No, but we may have been exposed to some kind of airborne pathogen. Thought you might want to know.” Suddenly she was in full nurse mode, retrieving a pencil and paper from her bedside table.

“Who else was there?”

“McCree and Morrison. They're seeing Doctor Ziegler and Winston right now.”

“No contact with anyone else, right?”

“Not that I know of.”

“What symptoms are you experiencing?”

“None.” Ingrid frowned, shoving a pile of unfolded sweaters off her bed and motioning for Gabriel to sit. He did so while she retrieved her personal medic kit from the supply closet, going straight for the stethoscope and pressing it to his chest.

“In,” she instructed, listening to his breaths. “Out. In. Out.” Right after, she pressed the metal disc to his back, repeating her trial. Then she moved on to a blood pressure test, and then a brief eye, ear, nose, and mouth exam. “Nothing seems out of place. Though I suppose the illness wouldn't present itself immediately, unless it were a weaponized type of pathogen that would infect right away. Did you feel dizzy or nauseated at all when you first inhaled it?”

“No. I feel fine. Like I said, we might not have even been exposed. Just a risk.”

“Hm.” In a quick motion, she packed up her kit and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “Christ, Gabriel, you're burning up! You _said_ no symptoms!”

“That's not from the pathogen,” he sighed, reaching up to move her hand away from his skin. His shift in tone pulled Ingrid out of her all-business state, and she frowned a little at the shadow that clouded his voice. He shrugged. “SEP side effects. I always run hot.”

“Have you told Angela?”

“She knows.”

“Has she given you anything? Medicine?”

“Nothing works for long.” Ingrid considered this for a moment, then turned back to her supply closet and retrieved a handful of glass vials.

“It isn't strictly medicine, but I've always found these helpful.” She showed him the containers in turn. “Peppermint and eucalyptus oils, with coconut oil as a carrier. They bring down fevers naturally.” Gabriel lifted a brow, disbelieving. “I can show you how it works, but... I'll need permission to touch you.” The air in the room seemed to thicken, the quiet hum of the heating ducts deafening. Gabriel's throat bobbed, his jaw flexing before he nodded. Ingrid, too, nodded to herself, pouring a splash of coconut oil into her palm before mixing in two drops of peppermint and two of eucalyptus. She swirled them with two fingertips, then exhaled slowly. “Forehead first.”

“Alright.” Ingrid kept her touch light, painting two broad stripes from temple to temple.

“Now the ears.” She dipped her thumb in the mix, tracing around the shell of Gabriel's left ear, then his right. His soft exhale sent a shiver down her spine. “And the neck...” She used the rest of the mixture in her palm, reaching around to his back, rubbing a smooth circle right above his top vertebrae and up to his hairline.

“Ingrid...” His breath fanned across her collarbone, one hand curling around her hipbone and pulling her closer. She inhaled sharply, her free hand bracing itself against his shoulder as she flicked her gaze from his eyes to his lips and back again. If she just leaned down a little further...

“Commander Reyes to the medical bay,” the intercom system beckoned overhead, then repeated itself. Ingrid blinked rapidly, stepping back and pretending that her knees weren't weak. Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, annoyance clear in his posture when he stood.

“Duty calls,” she said with a nervous laugh.

“Yeah,” Gabriel agreed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he gave her a nod and headed for the door. “I'll let you know if I start feeling sick.”

“You better.” That got one of those small smiles out of him, and he stepped through the threshold and started his walk down the hall. Ingrid stood in her room for a few moments, then palmed the lock for her door and leaned out. “Gabriel!” He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “You have to come back afterwards. The oils take several applications.”

“I'll be there,” he promised, and his smile was bigger this time around.

.

“Alright. Give it a test,” Ingrid said, watching Genji's shuriken dispenser carefully as he initiated a reload. It ran perfectly, smoother and quieter than it was before her latest tweaking. She gave him a triumphant grin. “You're ready to go.”

“Thank you,” he told her with a quick bow of his head. “I will try not to damage it this time.”

“But no promises, right?”

“Correct,” he admitted with a laugh, waving at her as he turned around to pack his overnight bag into the transport. Ingrid watched the goings-on from the courtyard, wrapping her blanket tighter around her torso. Thirty degrees wasn't exactly comfortable, but there had been several inches of snowfall overnight and she was enjoying the winter precipitation alongside everyone else. Lena zipped around pelting the squad with snowballs as they prepped for deployment, her giggles ringing through the compound. Jack and Ana were business as usual, bundled up in scarves and mittens as they reviewed mission details outside the transport. Winston and Reinhardt—the two unlikeliest people—were working together and building snowmen. Ingrid shook her head, smiling to herself; sometimes, Overwatch HQ seemed more like a day camp than it did a base full of elite military specialists.

“Here,” Gabriel said, appearing at Ingrid's side and handing her a mug of hot chocolate. She took it gratefully, smiling up at him and then nodding out to the yard.

“It's nice to see everyone relax,” she commented, “even if it's only for a few minutes.” When he didn't answer, she glanced at him. “If only _someone_ would join in the fun.”

“I don't see _you_ playing around, either.”

“That's because I'm a dignified medical officer with a reputation of total professionalism to maintain.” Gabriel snorted at that.

“Right. And I'm a highly-trained, specially-enhanced military commander for a global task force. We don't have time for snowball fights.”

“Exactly. You just _get_ me, Gabriel Reyes.” He chuckled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other; now his hip was brushing against hers.

“See how Morrison's counting things off on his fingers? He's listing the primary mission objectives to Amari. He'll call for deployment in about fifteen seconds.” Gabriel rolled his neck, adjusting the strap of his duffel on one shoulder.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Be careful out there,” Ingrid said, then decided to take a risk and added, “Gabe.” His expression seemed to brighten, just fractionally, another small and secret smile on his lips. When Jack called for the team to mount up—within the fifteen seconds, as predicted—Gabriel leaned in and pressed a kiss against Ingrid's forehead.

“I'll see you soon.” Ingrid clutched her mug a little tighter as he walked away, feeling buoyant and warm. When Jesse slung his arm across her shoulders for a hug goodbye, she couldn't keep the grin off her face.

“So,” Jesse teased, jerking his chin in Gabriel's direction, “still think he hates you?”


End file.
